


hey there demons its me ya boy

by frogbackpack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hallucination Lucifer (Supernatural) | Hallucifer, Hallucinations, Help, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Season/Series 07, Self-Harm, i wrote this in like two seconds and im hopped up on energy drinks, i wrote this instead of cutting oops, im coping i promise, trigger warning ofc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 13:56:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18152738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogbackpack/pseuds/frogbackpack
Summary: lucifers a little shit and sam has unhealthy ways of dealing with it





	hey there demons its me ya boy

**Author's Note:**

> hi u read the tags but still like tw and also?? yhis isnt meant to like promote hurtin g yourself??? like ofc dont do that

It wasn't really a promise he made to himself. More a 'I know this won't help so I won't do it' kinda thing.

Sam knew about people who had scars on their wrists, he's seen some before on strangers he didn't give a second glance to.

He knew some people thought it helped. He didn't think so. So he never did it. That, and if Dean got even the slightest suspicion that his little brother was harming himself, he'd intervene in whatever way he saw fit.

So, no, he never really promised he wouldn't take a blade to his skin. He never thought he'd want to.

Except for when the devil wormed his way into his head and plagued his every waking moment. And, ya know, pressing the scar on his hand could only work for so long. He didn't know what to do when it stopped being effective. Lucifer brought up the idea of suicide a few times, telling him to shoot himself, that it'd be easier that way to get rid of him, that it'd work better than any scar thing ever could.

Sam knew it was in his head. Satan wasn't actually talking to him, telling him to get it over with and end his life already, he knew that.

Yet the sound of Lucifer's voice, real or not, brought him to the verge of a blind panic every time he heard it. Which, considering his ears were never free of the sound, wasn't good for working jobs. Yeah, maybe Sam's number one concern shouldn't be how well he can act on hunts, not that he could really help it, the greater good was what mattered more than one ex blood junkie.

"Sam. C'mon, Sam. Saaaaaam,"

Elbows dug into his thighs, hands pressed against his face as he rocked back and forth on the edge of his bed, Sam mumbled, "Shut up,"

"But there's no fun in that, is there, Sammy?" Lucifer was sitting on the center of the bed. Sam's bed. He could feel the dip in the mattress from his weight. It wasn't real. But he still felt it.

"Don't call me that," He whispered.

"Only big brother can call you that, huh? Well, guess what, Sammy," he drags out his name. "He isn't here. And you wanna know why?"

Sam shook his head, already knowing what he was going to say next.

"Because you're still in the cage. You never got out, Sam, and you're never going to," Lucifer moves to sit next to Sam, bringing a hand up to stroke his hair. "You're with me. Mine. Forever, got that?"

Please shut up. Please shut up. Go away. Go away. Go away. Please. Just leave me alone. Don't fucking touch me.

"Really, Sam? That's no way to think of your bunk buddy,"

"I'm not your fucking bunk buddy. Go away,"

With a click of his tongue, Lucifer said, "Oh yeah? What can you even do to get rid of me? Oh, that's right, there's nothing you can do,"

Sam takes his hands out of his hair, where they had been tugging at, and applies as much pressure to his scar as he can. "We both know that won't work anymore, Sammy. Give it up, why don't ya?"

"Fuck off." Sam abruptly stands and rushes to the small table on the other side of their motel room of the week, eyeing the sharp pocket knife placed on top of a stack of papers. He grabs it and sits back down on the bed, Lucifer still sat by his side.

"Ooh, now we're talking,"

"Shut the fuck up." He says as the blade digs into the flesh of his arm. A sharp inhale through his teeth, and he's cutting deeper. Lucifer's image fades in and out, and he grins.

"Get out of my head!" He almost screams, slashing deeper and deeper until bloods dripping onto his lap. He doesn't care that it's gonna stain like a bitch, he just needs the devil to stay away from him.

He doesn't stop until his arm is covered in bleeding red lines. The sheets are a mess and so are his jeans.

Lucifer's already gone when he looks up.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading owowowowo im bery tiredyeyeyhwhhahwhhw


End file.
